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Happy SG-1 Gen Fic Day, everyone! Comment here with links to new fic, older fic, and WIPS; leave comment fic, recs, or links to meta or graphics. Anything goes, as long as it's gen and related to SG-1!
If you're one of our wonderful contributors to Jack Alpha-Bit Soup, first post your ficlet in your own LJ, and then comment here with the link. Use the subject line for your title (C if for Charlie, or whatever), then include the link and a few paragraphs (or the entire ficlet, if it's short enough) in your comment.
Gen fic may be a small genre compared to all the ship fic out there, but it's alive and thriving and wonderful. So here's to lots more!
And don't forget to spread the word to your flists. :)
If you're one of our wonderful contributors to Jack Alpha-Bit Soup, first post your ficlet in your own LJ, and then comment here with the link. Use the subject line for your title (C if for Charlie, or whatever), then include the link and a few paragraphs (or the entire ficlet, if it's short enough) in your comment.
Gen fic may be a small genre compared to all the ship fic out there, but it's alive and thriving and wonderful. So here's to lots more!
And don't forget to spread the word to your flists. :)
Tags:
I is for Infirmary
Or
Jack O’Neill is a very bad patient
Rated G
Word Count: 1,788
Disclaimer: Not owned by me, not written for any profit.
1997
Daniel tapped on the door to the Infirmary politely. After a full minute of no answer he poked his head around.
He was greeted by the alarming tableau of Jack O’Neill reclining on a bed with a frazzled Dr. Frasier behind him.
“What do you mean, it just got stuck?” she exclaimed.
Daniel closed the door hurriedly and let them be.
Remainder of the fic is here (http://ayamgila.livejournal.com/8094.html)
C is for Crap and Camaraderie
I also have knew fic which is being betaed at the moment so hopefully it will be done by the time "today" has ended.
X is for Xerox
X is for Xerox (http://community.livejournal.com/quaintdiversion/9284.html)
N is for Nem
N is for Nem (He Was A Good Man) (http://sg-betty.livejournal.com/19007.html#cutid1)
Snippet:
The Color Guard folded the flag and held it over the funeral wreath. The wreath that was merely a symbol of Daniel: they couldn’t even bring him home. Jack let the formality of the military funeral wash over him. The respect. The ritual. He understood the reasons for ritual.
Every step precise.
Every motion handed down through time.
Every part a way of holding the pieces together for a while longer.
Daniel died once, when he jumped in front of that staff blast on Abydos. He’d died again on the Nox world, but Jack had died first that time, so he didn’t have to know. It wasn’t supposed to happen again. It was never supposed to happen again. He was supposed to make damn sure of that. He was supposed to keep his team safe.
A new video dedicated to Lokei (Fear: Absolute Power)
Fear: Absolute Power (http://sg-betty.livejournal.com/18759.html#cutid1)
Re: A new video dedicated to Lokei (Fear: Absolute Power)
Re: A new video dedicated to Lokei (Fear: Absolute Power)
Re: A new video dedicated to Lokei (Fear: Absolute Power)
B is for Blood
A dark fragment of Jack's stream of consciousness in Abyss.
B is for Blood
My First Video: Revised and Shiny
This one was made for Fig Newton, and I was feeling bad that it was so clearly my first video, so I cleaned it up some. ; ) It's better now, Fig!
New Gen Fic
A desolate wasteland... (http://uniquinum.livejournal.com/72597.html)
Y is for... What?
Five hours into their imprisonment, Jack got tired of counting ceiling tiles, had gotten a new high score on Bejeweled, and was otherwise bored out of his gourd.
"I Spy," he began, "with my little eye, something that begins with 'G'."
The fun continues... (http://cleothemuse-fic.livejournal.com/68747.html#cutid1)
H is for Hell
by Lokei
Jack’s new aide is late, and knows it. He’s red-faced and babbling as Jack waits.
“I’m sorry, sir, General O’Neill, sir.” He salutes and Jack raises an eyebrow.
“The traffic around Dupont Circle was hell, sir.”
Jack looks at his round-cheeked, unlined face, the crispness of his uniform, his haircut. He thinks about Iraq, Antarctica, Oannes, Netu. He considers Charlie’s headstone, Teal’c’s bug bite, Carter’s brain in the base computers, Daniel’s radiation poisoning. He contemplates friends lost by black holes, staff blasts, snakes in the head. Being snaked himself. Hathor and Ba’al. Watching his kids go out on missions without him and waiting for them to come back in pieces.
His aide fidgets and Jack realizes he’s been staring.
“Hell,” he repeats flatly.
“Yes, sir,” the aide is flushing, and Jack decides it’s not the kid’s fault that he has no idea what real hell is. If anything, it’s Jack’s, for saving the world too damn often.
“Coffee,” Jack says, and turns back to his office, where his cellphone—the private one—is ringing.
“O’Neill.”
“You’ve got tickets on the 5:10 Monday flight to beat the Thanksgiving crowds,” Daniel’s voice comes through as clearly as if he were standing right next to Jack’s shoulder, where he belongs. “If you’re not at the airport when I get there to pick you up, I’m going to have Teal’c challenge you to a no-holds-barred sparring session.” Somewhere in the background, there’s a rumble of amused Jaffa commentary and the laughter of a brainy, blond lieutenant colonel.
Jack’s mouth curls up at one corner. He knows a lot about hell—turns out he knows a lot about heaven, too.
http://community.livejournal.com/lokeis_pen/8768.html
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"Diplomacy" (http://night-spear1287.livejournal.com/17936.html). It's also in my Abydonian!Daniel AU.
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Can't wait to read your teen!Daniel again. :)
F is for Fruit Loops
http://sg-wonderland.livejournal.com/2008/10/27/
E is for Ego
Daniel spared him a glance from the dancing girls. "Of course it isn’t." which Jack translated as Daniel-speak for "Of course it is."
"This is about inappropriate stereotyping."
"Uh huh."
"Downright bigotry."
"Yep."
"Just because I have a few grey hairs doesn’t mean I’m..." He waved a hand in the air, searching for the best word.
"Old?" Daniel supplied.
"Distinguished," Jack corrected with a glare that went completely unnoticed by the recipient and the rest of his team.
The fact that the grey hairs in question--silver, the distinguished part of him insisted--were caused by said ungrateful team was not lost on Jack.
Sadly, the fact that he was currently wearing a pink dress couldn’t be lost either.
Rest of fic... (http://thraesja.livejournal.com/4556.html)
Z is for Z
“Daniel,” Jack responded from the far side of the room without looking up from his plate of apple pie with a single scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side.
Daniel walked over to Jack’s table and sat down. Resting his forearms on the table, he stared across at Jack for a moment before asking, “Whatcha doing?”
Jack dug into his pie with his spoon and scooped up a little ice cream before shovelling it into his mouth. He chewed a few times before replying indistinctly, “Eating pie.”
Daniel’s face transformed into an expression of restrained disgust at Jack’s manners, his eyes narrowing, lips thinning and nose wrinkling up.
“What?” Jack demanded.
Daniel raised his eyebrows at him.
“Was I supposed to be somewhere?”
“I don’t know. But then, I’m not your Personal Assistant,” Daniel responded mildly.
“I don’t have a –“ Jack began.
“And I’m not Walter,” Daniel interrupted.
“True,” Jack stated, pointing his spoon at Daniel before using it for the purpose for which it was designed. Daniel glared at Jack until he finished the mouthful.
Jack sighed mentally and gave in.
“I was thinking,” he admitted.
Daniel’s eyebrows reached for his hairline. “Really? Okay, what were you thinking about?”
“Z,” Jack responded with a flourish of his hands.
“Z?”
“Yes, Daniel. Z.”
“As in ‘catching Zs’?”
“No, that’s something I prefer to do instead of think about. Z as in ‘the letter at the opposite end of the alphabet from A.’”
Z is for Z (http://with-apostrophe.livejournal.com/60331.html/)
Re: Z is for Z
http://with-apostrophe.livejournal.com/60331.html
S is for Scientists
Rating: G
Jack remembers stating once that he liked women, but he had some serious issues with scientists. Or it was something close to that anyway.
http://a-loquita.livejournal.com/37628.html
K Is for Kiln
http://maychorian.livejournal.com/48464.html
Jack molded the clay in his hands, slick, soft, pliable, curling past his fingers with the turning of the wheel. The sensation of wet clay was immediate and real, coating his fingers, filling his nostrils with the smell of earth, the smell of his home. The act of forming a useful vessel from shapeless matter was satisfying, the creation of something good from a mass of potential.
But there would never be a kiln for this beautiful pot, never a permanence to its making. Every day, he started anew. Every day, his work was undone.
The constant loss was terrible.
Re: K Is for Kiln
And aw! Yeah, poor Jack. His pottery work WOULD be all for naught, wouldn't it? I just watched that ep yesterday too.
Re: K Is for Kiln
Re: K Is for Kiln
Re: K Is for Kiln
G is for Gratitude
notes:
1. I was determined that this would be my Alphabet Soup entry that would be at or under 500 words. I think we can see what my determination is worth: 1524 words.
2. Shameless plug alert: I designed this story to work (if it does work) on it’s own. However, I also conceived it as something of a coda to my much longer and recently posted story, Choices. In my original mental outline for that story, I’d intended to include something like this. The more I worked on that piece, the more I thought this bit didn’t belong there. Not wanting to abandon it completely, I decided to use the idea here. I don’t think it’s necessary to read that story to get this one, but I like to think that it enriches this one.
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The chime of the doorbell interrupted Jack’s restless prowling. He took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Sara.”
“Hi Jack.”
“Come in. I’ll get my jacket.” Jack stood aside to allow Sara to step through the door. She touched his arm lightly as she walked by and wandered into the living room.
“I don’t remember seeing these photos up before,” she called.
“I finally put them up last year.” Jack was putting on a windbreaker as he entered the room.
“They look nice,” she said. She turned to Jack. “Ready?”
“I think so.”
Jack followed Sara to her jeep. She got into the driver’s side and lifted a bouquet of wildflowers from the passenger seat.
“Here, you can hold these,” she said, handing the flowers to Jack..
“Okay.”
Sara started the engine and backed out of the driveway. “I was surprised to hear from you. You’re usually scarce this time of year.”
“My duties put me on the road a lot,” Jack said defensively.
“I wasn’t judging you,” Sara assured him. “I figured you like to be busy on the anniversary.”
“I do,” Jack admitted. “I happen to be on leave this week. I had planned to go fishing, but at the last minute I decided to stay in town.”
“I’m glad you called. I could use the company.”
Jack gave her a friendly grimace, then looked at the streets questioningly. “What route are you taking?” he finally asked.
“I wanted to take a little detour.” Sara came to a stop at a building that Jack recognized as Charlie’s school.
“What are we doing here?” he asked.
“That.” Sara pointed at a tree halfway up the walkway to the brick building. “It’s the tree that Charlie’s class planted for him when he died.”
“I’d forgotten about that,” Jack said. The truth was that he had dismissed it as meaningless at the time. He had been too grief-stricken and bitter to appreciate the gesture. Now, with the passage of years, he regarded the tree with a friendlier eye.
“It was such a Charlie Brown tree when they planted it. So spindly and scrawny,” Sara said affectionately. “Look at it now.”
It was a lovely maple tree, around ten feet tall. It had filled out beautifully. The leaves had completed their seasonal transformation to a brilliant red. The color was striking against the blue autumn sky.
“I like to stop by here every so often to check on it,” Sara said.
“It’s beautiful,” Jack said. He made a mental note to drive by the school from time to time in the future.
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"V" is for Victory
He stood ramrod straight in the formation, the look on his face as frozen as the ship he stared at through the observation window.
http://sela21k.livejournal.com/113431.html
L - Laira, leaving, loss, longing
warnings: language, spoilers for A Hundred Days
They set out from the village--it was a hike to the 'gate now, long and dusty. But at least the Stargate was upright, and they were leaving power since the DHD was scattered to hell and gone.
Jack didn't look back. He'd said his 'fair days', after Laira had said it to him. Carter had moved ahead. Teal'c was with her, matching strides. Daniel slowed his step, almost looked like he had their six; Daniel was also being careful not to look Jack's way, and Jack wasn't sure how he felt about that.
He wasn't sure how he felt about anything.
Pissed maybe. Excited. Wanting to go and stay, and why the hell was he leaving? Except he had a duty, he had a life. And it wasn't here.
It was like no time away from his team, and like about a lifetime. He'd made a new life, or he thought he'd been doing that, but he was walking from it as if he hadn't been. He'd had no hesitation about that. So did that make him an idiot?
Then Daniel asked, "She wouldn't leave?"
Jack slanted a glance over, because, what the hell--Daniel had telepathy now? And he let out a breath because he'd forgotten just what Daniel noticed when Daniel was paying attention.
"Couldn't," he said, and didn't want to say more.
Daniel gave a nod, one of his knowing ones that said of course, and his head tipped and that left about a dozen possibilities in there.
That irritated Jack--and he smiled. God, he'd missed this. Then he frowned because he was also going to miss the fishing. He wasn't going to miss the homespun, and he glanced down at them, thought how they itched, and how he wished someone would hand him a damn gun--and how he didn't want that either. That would take him home all too fast.
The 'gate was in sight, at the end of the road. The Edorans had been left to their reunions. Jack was glad he didn't have to see that. It would have left him feeling the outsider he'd become again. But he glanced at Daniel's radio, waved one hand at it.
"She was going to toss it today--I told her to. I was done."
Daniel's head dropped and he frowned, but it wasn't one of the tight thinky ones; his eyes had gone vague and distant, and Jack wanted to reach out and tap him with the back of his hand to bring him back. And then he wanted pockets to shove his hands into. He hadn't known how to reinvent the damn pocket.
Daniel put his stare on the Stargate. He was smiling now, just a curve of his lips. "You're never done. Laira's smart enough to know that."
"Oh?"
"She didn't toss anything, did she? She said no about leaving." Daniel's stare slipped over then, with his eyes narrowed against the bright sun. "It's never easy knowing where you belong. But she knows."
Jack heard it then--that wistful undertone, that thread of what he was feeling. Longing. Loss. The echo of someone who knew what it was like a little too well to always be the one to have to be doing the leaving.
Now he had no trouble knowing what to do with his hands. He grabbed the back of Daniel's neck, had bare, warm skin and the short hairs under his fingers. He shook once, finally let go after he'd had the tension under his grip ease and felt muscle soften.
"Who the hell ever said anything's supposed to be easy?" And he thought of the easy life he was leaving--early up to chop wood, and up late to bank fires, and between you dug food out of the ground or went hunting for it. But you didn't duck enemy fire, didn't have buttons to press to launch bombs, didn't have paperwork to file after someone died.
He thought of the family he might have had here--then he looked ahead to the family taking him home; he lost one to get the other.
Giving a nod to Daniel, and a sharp elbow, he said, "Dial us home, Daniel."
He watched Daniel glance at him--eyes clear, a fraction of a hesitation, and then the nod firm. And Carter glanced back. Teal'c looked like he was going to dine out on being the hero for about a month. Jack smiled. And he stepped through the 'gate, already planning the face he'd put on as he put the last hundred days behind. He'd always been better at looking to the horizon.
Re: L - Laira, leaving, loss, longing
Re: L - Laira, leaving, loss, longing
Re: L - Laira, leaving, loss, longing
Re: L - Laira, leaving, loss, longing
Re: L - Laira, leaving, loss, longing
Re: L - Laira, leaving, loss, longing
T is for Team
T is for Team
Bonus T is for Team
The offer, when it comes, is surprisingly easy to accept. He feels a pang of regret as he’s packing up the last of his things to be sent to his new home in Washington, but it’s really for the best. Generals should not have favorites. Generals who are the last line of defense for the Earth cannot afford to have favorites.
And yet, Jack’s famous gut does play favorites. SG-9 is twenty minutes late for a check-in, and Jack has to play it by ear, because he has no idea if they’re twenty minutes closer to being eaten by hostile natives, or just twenty minutes closer to sealing the deal for a big honkin’ spacegun.
But SG-1 is two minutes late and Jack’s got the marines gearing up and a medical team on standby. Or sometimes they’re two days late, and Jack sits on his hands because he knows they just need a little more time. So when George Hammond starts to oh-so-casually put out feelers as to his receptiveness to making a cross-country move, Jack makes the appropriate overtures of reluctance, but allows himself to be talked into it.
When his team (always his team, that’s part of the problem) comes to him with their plans for moving on, he feels only relief. Carter’s a good officer, maybe too good to ever let this happen to her, but he’s glad she’ll never have to sit in the control room helpless and sick as her team, her family, stumbles back through the gate broken and bleeding.
He’s ashamed to admit that giving Mitchell SG-1 is ridiculously easy, because it isn’t his SG-1. Mitchell’s a good guy, but it’d be hard to trust someone else with his kids. Perversely, he’s also happy when Mitchell does ‘get the band back together.’ It’s good to know they’re still out there, watching his back. And he helps when and where he can and dreams of peace and reunion on a lake in Minnesota.
Re: Bonus T is for Team
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Re: Bonus T is for Team
Re: Bonus T is for Team
O is for Old Age
Time Share (O is for Old Age)
"Anything biting?"
The question is accompanied by footsteps on the lake's pebbly shore, and Jack reflects that if his mind hadn't been a million miles away, he would have heard someone approaching sooner. He looks up and sighs, a sound halfway between annoyance and resignation. He really could have lived the rest of his life quite happily without ever again seeing the young man coming toward him, but the universe has been at pains before now to make it clear that his luck just isn't that good.
"I thought we agreed not to keep in touch," he grouses.
"Hey, it's not like I planned this," the clone replies. "You're not the only one with a holiday weekend to kill. You're also not the only one who caught that huge bass here back in '82."
Jack glowers.
"Okay," the younger man concedes with a role of eyes, "maybe you are the only one who actually did that, but I remember catching that thing as well as you do. Better, probably," he adds with the ghost of a smirk.
The rest is here... (http://kalquessa.livejournal.com/611747.html)
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Thanks for
brow-beatinggentling prodding me into signing up for this, Fig, I'm rather fond of the little fic that resulted.R is for Reality Bites
Genre: angst, episode tag
Spoilers: First two seasons
Warnings: kinda dark; may be disturbing
Synopsis: Just another day at the office for our Colonel
0/0/0/0/0
Colonel Jack O’Neill was surprised by how quickly the hallucinations started. He kept his eyes pointed forward and avoided looking at anything too closely. It was creepy enough through the corner of his eye.
He thought he had prepared himself for the experience, but when he saw Hathor standing behind Sam Carter, he slid slowly to the floor. The visual detail wasn't a surprise, but he hadn't expected his other senses to join in quite so willingly. As she advanced on him, the ribbon device attached to her hand clinked slightly, and he thought he caught a whiff of her perfume. In an effort to minimize reaction, Jack curled himself into a ball, but couldn’t help the involuntary response as he tried to kick her approaching Jaffa out of the way. He managed to slow the kick down until it was an ineffectually slow movement in space. He repeated to himself, ‘This isn’t real. This isn’t real.’
Read Story Here (http://neiths-arrow.livejournal.com/9751.html)
Re: R is for Reality Bites
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In the meantime, I'll offer up my favorite existing gen stories as well as a rec.
Self-Pimp:
:-)
Words of Beauty/Love/Life (http://www.thealphagate.com/viewstory.php?sid=3555)
Summary: An uneventful mission. Character study.
Battle Cry (http://www.stargatefan.com/archives/viewstory.php?sid=31)
Summary: "In war, there are no unwounded soldiers." ~Jose Narosky - Daniel must get a wounded Jack to safety after being separated from the rest of the team when an uprising interrupts a mission. Some h/c, mostly character study.
REC:
Stargate: Explorer (http://starg8-explorer.livejournal.com/tag/chapter+01:+number+three)
Summary: Where the Stargate universe SHOULD be going...
I just wish she'd do another 'season'. ;-):-)
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